


Mr Kinney, I Presume?

by aaa_mazing



Category: QAF US
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:35:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaa_mazing/pseuds/aaa_mazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian meets Sam. But Sam is not a trick. Not even a guy. Sam is a ten year girl. But she has a brother. Who is an artist. And not actually her brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr Kinney, I Presume?

A huge herd of hippos seemed to be running to and fro in Brian’s head. He tried to open his eyes but the eyelids made of lead just wouldn't go up. Brian finally managed to perform the task at hand only to squeeze his eyes shut moments later. The sunlight threatened to blind him. The brunet groaned; his body refused to join the world of living.  
  
The crazy dance of overexcited hippos wouldn't stop. Suddenly Brian understood the sound was not only the result of his hangover. It was coming from the steel door of the loft. Thud-thud-thud.  
  
Brian crawled out of the bed, stumbling towards the door, cursing and promising the longest and most torturous death to the visitor.  
  
“What. The. Fu...?” He started the greeting, opening the sliding door, and froze mid-word. Instead of Mikey with his sheepish smile or some trick, who had forgotten a key or purse, there was a girl. A thin tiny girl whose skin was the color of chocolate, hair stuck out in every direction, black eyes huge behind her glasses.  
“Good morning, Mister.” The voice was thin like the girl herself.  
  
“Could be better,” Brian mumbled. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Excuse my early visit. I am looking for Thomas,” the girl announced and adjusted her glasses with an index finger. The gesture and the steel notes in her voice reminded Brian about his university professor Ms. Schultz.  
  
Brian feverishly was trying to remember if any of his guests were Thomas', without any success. As if trying to help the strange visitor said, “He's black, cute, and small.” No help here.  
  
“He's a cat,” the girl explained as if it was the most obvious thing to say.  
  
“A cat.” Brian began to lose his last train of coherent thought. “And you think he’s here, why?”  
  
“Where else?” She sounded so confident that Brian felt himself a retard. As he couldn’t find a word to react with, he snorted.  
  
The girl went on politely, “May I know your name? And, may I come in?”  
  
“No and no.” What the hell?  
  
“Look, Mister. Our communication may be rather difficult as I’m not supposed to talk to people I’m not familiar with. Not counting coming into their places.” Little copy of Ms. Schultz stated.  
  
Reasonable. The man said reluctantly, “Brian. Kinney.” The little one looked so serious, seemed so grown up, Brian even thought of shaking hands. Swallowing the thought down his oh-so-dry throat he motioned, “Come in.”  
  
The girl stepped inside and, Jesus, stretched out a small hand with a pink palm, “Sam.”  
  
Brian shook the tiny hand dumbstruck. “Sam? Isn’t that a boy’s name?”  
  
“Sam,” she confirmed, then added, “Sam like in Samantha, not like in Samuel.”  
  
“Aha.” Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So, Sam like in Samantha, tell me why do you think your…”  
  
“Thomas,” she helped.  
  
“Right, Thomas. How come he’s here?”  
  
“He sneaked out yesterday night when Justin came home. We looked everywhere but didn’t find him. I heard your door slamming at the time, so I thought he might have sneaked in here,” she said pouring the information into Brian’s sick head.  
  
“Whoa, whoa, easy there,” he pleaded, helping himself to coffee.   
  
“Want some?” he offered. And, couldn’t believe his eyes when the girl rolled her eyes and … smirked.  
  
“Kidding? I’m a child. Don’t you know you shouldn’t give children caffeine?” The little professor was genuinely amazed. She began to get disappointed in grownups. Well, this representative in particular.  
  
“Whatever.” The brunet gave up. The kid wore him out, but he couldn’t not ask, “Where’s your place? Who’s Justin? How could Thomas come here?” And. What. The. Fuck? He didn’t voice the last one, though. He couldn’t believe he was standing in the middle of his luxurious bachelor’s den, with a head-cracking hangover, after a wild orgy, and was asking the most stupid questions.  
  
Sam sighed. This man was slow. “You are not very observant, are you, Mr. Kinney? We are your neighbors. We moved in a week ago,” she announced.  
  
“And, we are…?”  
  
“And, we are my brother Justin, Thomas, and me.”  
  
Brian could ask more, but it wasn’t easy to ask questions with an open mouth. And his mouth did fall open when he saw something small, coal-black, crawling from under the snow-white couch, stretching, climbing up the couch’s arm, and starting to wash itself.  
  
“Thoooomas.” Sam singsonged reproachfully, her hands on her hips. Yeah, definitely, Ms. Schultz.  
  
The infamous Thomas preferred not to pay attention neither to a half-conscious owner of the place, nor a rather irritated girl. Instead he finished his morning exercise, yawned, and dug his claws into one of the cushions.  
  
That was too much for Brian’s sore brain. He quickly covered the distance (too quickly, his head reminded him), grabbed the kitten by its scruff, wrinkled his nose in disgust, and with his arm stretched out, squeamishly gave it to Sam.  
  
“That’s it. You take it.” The girl hurried to save her pet. “And you go home. Now.”  
  
“Not very polite, Mr. Kinney.” She snuggled Thomas to her chest. “Where are your manners?” She puffed, turned around, and walked out, leaving the man with his mouth open. Again. Yeah, a retard.  
  
Not quite understanding what’d just happened, Brian slammed the door, jumping as the sound echoed in his empty skull. He shook his head (slowly this time), and headed to the shower to wash away the strangest experience of the morning.  
  
>>> <<<  
  
Despite Saturday and the hangover Brian went to the gym. Among his numerous rules the you-want-to-get-laid-you-keep-fit one was somewhere close to the top of the list.  
  
Three hours later after the workout and a blowjob in the gym shower the brunet came back to the loft only to find his morning visitor at the door.  
  
Brian dropped the bag. Jesus Fucking Christ! “What do you want this time?” he barked.  
  
“First of all, good afternoon, Mr. Kinney.” The girl didn’t even blink.  
  
Brian felt he was hyperventilating. “Good afternoon, …”  
  
“Sam.” Couldn’t the man remember a three-letter name?  
  
“What now, Sam?”  
  
“I need your help.” The girl shifted uncomfortably, a paper bag in her hand visibly heavy.  
  
“Really? Who got lost this time?” Brian put the key into the hole. “Call 911.”  
  
“Very funny.” She placed the bag into the other hand, and fished a key out of her pocket. “I can’t unlock the door. It sticks. Justin was going to change the lock.”  
  
“And I…?” Brian raised his eyebrow.  
  
“And you are going to help me.” Not a hint of hesitation in the voice.  
  
The man sighed. Not the way he planned his day out. However, he took the offered key, the paper bag, and went downstairs with Sam like in Samantha in tow.  
  
> >>> <<<  
  
Brian could swear he didn’t remember how he ended up on a high chair at the kitchen counter with a mug of cocoa in his hand.  
  
Sam was fussing about the kitchen, and unpacking the groceries. Brian wondered how old she was.  
“Ten.” She threw in passing.  
  
Ten? She looked younger, thin, almost translucent, but bore it like a little woman, and reasoned like one. More reasonably than most of his friends.  
  
“Why do you live with your brother? Where are your parents?” Brian was suddenly interested.  
  
“My mom died. Justin is the only family I have.”  
  
The man wished he hadn’t asked. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay. It’s been six years now.” Her tone suggested the topic was closed.  
  
After minutes of an awkward silence Sam asked out of the blue, “Are you gay?”  
  
God, the girl was killing him. “Yes. And, how do you know?”  
  
The answer was simple. “I know if I see one. Justin is gay too. He is an artist.” Brian heard pride in her voice.  
  
“Oh.” An image of a hot muscular man with smooth chocolate skin came to the brunet’s mind. He shook his head and changed the topic. “And, what do you do?”  
  
Sam looked at him above her glasses, “What do ten-year-old girls do? Go to school, take dancing and the Chinese language classes, cook, watch TV, take care of Justin and Thomas.”  
  
Aha. Definitely just what all ten-year-old girls do.  
  
“Well.” Brian put the empty mug on the counter, “I really have to go.”  
  
“I see. It was nice to talk to you, Mr. Kinney.” She stepped closer. “Come over again when you want a mug of decent cocoa, or company.”  
  
“We’ll see,” slipped off Brian’s tongue before he could stop it.  
  
“Later then?” Sam made another step and shook his hand. Again.  
  
Brian grinned. “Later.”  
  
> >>> <<<  
  
Brian couldn’t imagine that ‘later’ would only take several hours.  
  
A Saturday night meant Babylon. But he never made it there. He picked up a trick at the diner and decided to call it an early night.  
  
The guy was hot. And a good kisser. So when they practically fell out of the lift, Brian still had his tongue down the trick’s throat. And had all chances to leave it there forever as the guy almost bit it off having seen a little girl at the door.  
  
“Who’s she?” The trick finally came to his senses.  
  
“Oh, just my stalker.” Brian turned to Sam. “What now? I didn’t see Thomas. Honestly.”  
  
Black eyes blinked behind the glasses. “Justin is working late. I thought we could watch a movie.” She waved a DVD with Peter fucking Pan!  
  
“Sorry, I have a lot to do tonight.”  
  
Sam gave the trick a once over. “I see.” She walked past them and down the stairs.  
  
Not that Brian thought that Peter Pan was hotter than his tonight’s trick, but ten minutes later he found himself knocking at the door one floor lower.  
  
The girl let him in. “Just in time. Pizza?” She asked matter-of-factly.  
  
“No, thanks.” Brian dropped himself on the sofa, taking in the apartment. Cozy.  
  
“Slow metabolism at your age?” Little Ms. Schultz asked.  
  
“Smart, aren’t you?”  
  
“Yes.” Who’d doubt?  
  
Two hours later Brian was stuffed with pizza and information. Sam never knew her father, her mother died six years ago, she loved cats, learning Chinese, reading Kipling, watching manga, baking chocolate muffins. And, adored her Justin.  
  
After another hour Brian opened his eyes to find Sam tucked under his arm, sleeping peacefully, with her glasses on the tip of her nose.  
  
And the bluest eyes staring at him.  
  
“Brian Kinney, I presume?”  
  
>>><<<  
  
Brian was watching dark shadows dancing on the moonlit ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come. He was thinking about the weirdest Saturday he’d ever had. About a little girl with the skin color of chocolate with funny glasses and a not so funny life. About her hot artistic brother, who turned out to be lithe, blond, bright, and not her brother at all. Actually, he was a friend of her mother, and had custody after the woman had died. The blond was quite a successful artist, trying to open his own little gallery after having realized that the Big Apple had been too big for them.  
  
Brian wriggled a little more, sighed a little heavier than he should have, and dozed off.  
  
>>> <<<  
  
A week flew by fast. Being a CEO of his own advertising company demanded 24/7 attention. If asked Brian wouldn’t be able to explain how come that two days in a row he picked up his little neighbor and drove her to school. He was pretty damn sure it was because the school was on the way to Kinnetik, not because she looked so fragile walking along the pavement with her huge backpack.  
  
Brian didn’t see her brother after last Saturday. Sam would say he was too busy with the opening of the gallery. She sounded sad.  
  
>>> <<<  
  
12 AM. Saturday.  
  
Brian gave himself a once over in the mirror. Definitely fabulous. He grabbed his leather jacket and headed out, and stopped mid-way. He knew the knock. Sam. Just in time!  
  
He opened the door and greeted the girl with a bark, “What?”  
  
She wasn’t her usual calm self. “I need your help,” she pleaded, her eyes full of tears.  
  
“That’s new,” he smirked. “What now?”  
  
“It’s Justin. He isn’t okay. I… I think… I think he’s drunk,” she stuttered shyly.  
  
Great! Just great! “Where is he?”  
  
Her lower lip trembled. “On the staircase. He’s … He’s going to sleep there.”  
  
Brian lifted her chin with a finger. “Listen to me. Are you listening?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“You go home, open the door, and get some water. And wait for us. ‘K?”  
  
“’K.” She nodded again.  
  
They went downstairs together. Sam opened the door and walked in. Brian saw the blond nestled on the cement step.  
  
“Justin?” Brian pushed him up. “Justin, look at me,” he demanded.  
  
Justin lifted his glazed eyes trying hard to focus. Having found the hazel eyes he exhaled, “Brian.” He smiled sheepishly, then added, “You’re hot.”  
  
“And you are high.”  
  
Justin tottered, practically falling into Brian’s arms. The brunet caught the smaller body. The body that was surprisingly light and warm. Justin lifted his head; his lips brushed Brian’s Adam’s apple, his chin, and touched the lips.  
  
Brian stopped breathing when he felt Justin’s tongue licking his lower lip. Of their own accord Brian’s lips parted, welcoming the intrusion. The blond moaned. Brian’s hands buried themselves into the golden mop. Justin’s were flat on Brian’s back, kneading it lightly. Lips soft and warm. Tongues licking, searching, fondling. The kiss deep and wet. And sweet.  
  
“Brian?” The call brought the man back to reality.  
  
“Coming!” He managed to pull away. “Let’s go, Justin. Bed time,” Brian whispered in his ear, lips caressing the tender flesh under the shell.  
  
Justin giggled, “Tickling.” He complied.  
  
Twenty minutes later Justin was peacefully snoring in his bed. Sam and Brian were drinking cocoa in the kitchen.  
  
“Why aren’t you in bed?” Brian asked.  
  
“I was reading.” The man stared at her. “And waiting for him.” She looked in the direction of the bedroom.  
  
“Does he often…?”  
  
“Drink? No. No! He doesn’t!” She shook her head furiously. “It was the opening of the gallery tonight. And… he’s lonely. He has no friends here. It’s just me and him,” she sighed.  
  
Brian touched her hand for a moment. “Go try and get some sleep.”  
  
He went to Babylon that night. It wasn’t much fun, though.  
  
>>> <<<  
  
Why wasn’t he surprised to be awakened by a knock at his door and to find a very pale, very embarrassed, and very hot blond behind it? The very blond whose lips he could still feel on his own.  
  
“I’d say ‘Good morning’ but I somehow suspect it’s not this good for somebody,” Brian smirked.  
  
“Then just ‘Morning’.” Justin’s teeth were worrying his lower lip. He wouldn’t lift his eyes. “I’d like to thank you, Brian. And… I’m sorry.” He blushed just when Brian decided to get rid of the word ‘cute’ in his vocabulary.  
  
“Sorry is bullshit. Wanna come in? I have some guava juice. It’s really helpful with hangovers,” Brian offered.  
  
“No. Thanks, but no. I’ve already drunk umpteen liters of orange juice, and had a whole lecture from my little public service announcer.”  
  
“This girl is smart,” Brian stated.  
  
“Just like her mom.” Justin smiled. “Thanks again. Later.”  
  
Brian couldn’t but smile back. “Later.”  
  
>>> <<<  
  
It was a Friday evening. And Brian was on a date. For the first time in his life. With a girl. With a ten-year-old girl in the Liberty Diner. They had cholesterol-overloaded cheeseburgers, fries, and fun.  
  
“Are there any libraries in the neighborhood? I have nothing to read,” Sam asked over a glass of milk shake.  
  
“I think I know one. And I have some books at my place. You can come and see.”  
  
“Thanks, Mr.Kinney. What about gay clubs?” An innocent glance above the glasses.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Gay. Clubs,” she enunciated. “Is this a particularly hard question?”  
  
“What? Wanna knock yourself out?” The girl was un-fucking-believable!  
  
She made a face. “No. But I thought Justin could. He never goes out. I don’t like it. So if you would be so kind as to show him around…” Why did it seem she was mocking him?  
  
The man answered before he thought. “I guess I could.”  
  
>>> <<<  
  
At 10 PM Brian knocked at his neighbors’ door. It was opened by the girl with a black kitten in her arms.  
  
“Good evening!” She let him in. “Justin!” Sam cried over her shoulder. “Brian’s here! Get out! I know you are ready!” She looked at Brian and mouthed, “Fashion freak.”  
  
Ten minutes later the hottest blond with the brightest smile and the most edible ass (too many superlatives, Kinney, Brian snapped himself) was standing in front of them.  
  
“You look … nice.” Great, sexy, irresistible.  
  
“Told you,” Sam echoed.  
  
“Thanks.” Justin blushed crimson.  
  
Babylon was its usual: dark, loud, hot. Brian introduced Justin to his friends, bought them two JBs, leaned in to overcry the thumpa-thumpa, “Now I’m leaving you. Have fun.”  
  
Brian didn’t make a tour to the backroom that night. The view of the blond moving to the music on the dance floor was distracting. Moreover, Brian knew perfectly well that if something happened to Justin, he’d have to deal with a certain angry little devil.  
  
Brian was sitting at the bar when he felt a wave of warmth and a light touch on his arm. Justin.  
  
“Brian, I’m going to call a cab.”  
  
“What, no fun here?” The music was too loud, so the blond’s face was too close.  
  
“No. It’s great!” Justin shined. “But it’s too late. And Sam is alone.”  
  
“Let’s go then.” Brian threw a note on the counter and rose.  
  
Justin wanted to assure the brunet he didn’t have to go, but then just followed him silently.  
  
The ride was short. Brian pushed Justin’s floor button in the lift and they went out of it together.  
The blond was fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Thank you, Brian. It was a great night.”  
  
“Can be even better.” Brian leaned closer.  
  
“Huh?” Justin lifted his head to meet the dark hazel eyes and warm lips on his own.  
  
Brian couldn’t help it. Just couldn’t. The guy’s lips were too kissable to resist. Brian caught Justin’s lower lip with his teeth, bit it lightly, licked the offended flesh. He deepened the kiss, pushed his tongue inside the wet warmth, licking out the sweet taste. He liked how Justin answered his every move, opened up for him, invited him. Brian savored every curve, ate every moan.  
  
Justin’s hands grabbed the front of Brian’s shirt, undid upper buttons, baring his neck and shoulder to trail kisses across the collar bone, up the side of the neck.  
  
Brian felt him stop at the pulse point and felt him sucking on the tender skin. Brian grabbed a handful of blond silk with one hand, his other one slipped under Justin’s waistband to cup his ass. The brunet pushed his leg between Justin’s, pressing his thigh against the cock. Justin emitted a sound that Brian at once sorted out as a major turn-on. Brian’s fingers never stopped fondling and kneading, travelling along the crack, brushing the puckered hole, teasing but not really getting in.  
  
Justin was rubbing his crotch against Brian’s thigh, practically riding it.  
  
“Come,” Brian whispered, breathing hot in Justin’s ear. He felt the blond jerking and melting in his arms. God, the guy was responsive!  
  
When Justin learned to breathe again Brian nuzzled his cheek. “Good night, neighbor.”  
  
Justin was still flushing. “Night.” He smiled.  
  
>><<  
  
Brian woke up at ten. What was the sense in sleeping in if he knew he’d have an early visitor? The sound at the door proved his suspicions. The girl had the nerve: she was banging at the door with her foot.  
  
He opened the door to see Sam with two steaming mugs. Cocoa, according to the smell.  
  
“Ta da!” She announced her arrival.  
  
“Good morning to you too.” Brian took the mugs. “Ouch! Hot!”  
  
“Of course hot. Cold cocoa tastes like dishwater.” She climbed up a chair at the kitchen counter and sipped from one of the mugs.  
  
“To what do I owe this honor?” Brian took the other one.  
  
“Two things actually. I’d like to thank you, and to … kill you.” She uttered calmly.  
  
“Elaborate.” Brian felt his eyebrows climb up his forehead.  
  
“Justin is happy. So thank you. But when he is, he sings. And he can’t sing! Sounds like somebody’s torturing a cat. For that I’d kill you.”  
  
  
Brian laughed. He wouldn’t mind bad singing that morning.  
  
>>><<<  
  
Brian was coming back from the gym later that day when he met Justin again. They collided on the staircase. Literally. The artist was rushing down taking two steps at a time. And ended up in Brian’s arms.  
  
“Watch it!” Brian smiled, steadying the smaller body in his embrace.  
  
“Oh, sorry.” Justin freed himself reluctantly and stepped back. Against his will his eyes were wandering up and down the awesome body clad in tight blue jeans and a black vest.  
  
“Like what you see?” Brian stretched his arms sideways and raised an eyebrow.  
  
The blond’s cheeks got the adorable hue that Brian liked to give rise to. “Yes.” And a moment later added in a whisper, “I’d paint you.”  
  
Brian didn’t give it a second thought. “I’d let you.”  
  
>><<<  
  
Brian and Sam were drinking their usual cocoa while Justin was getting his studio prepared. The girl smiled at the brunet. “Thank you.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“Just thank you.” Sam looked in his eyes with her bright black ones, the glance too deep and too intense for a ten-year-old girl.  
  
She shook her head, then smiled again, before saying, “I’m having a night over at my friend’s.”  
  
Brian choked, “So what?”  
  
“Just so you know...” she said, with a devious smile.  
  
They both turned their heads on hearing Justin clearing his throat. “I think I’m ready.”  
  
Sam took her backpack, went to kiss her ‘brother’ on the cheek, winked at Brian, and in the door said, “Behave, boys.” Then, Brian knew why Justin blushed so often, when he himself felt the color creep over his cheeks.  
After the girl had left Justin led Brian into the room that served him a studio.  
  
“Where do you want me?” Brian grinned at the double meaning of the question.  
  
“Here.” The blond showed him a huge cushion right on the floor.  
  
“Want me dressed or should I…?” The game went on.  
  
“With your shirt off.” The artist settled behind the easel, barely looking at Brian.  
  
Brian threw his shirt aside, sat down on the cushion. “What now?”  
  
The brunet wasn’t sure whether Justin caught up to his game when he said, “I want you on your stomach.”  
  
‘Aha. You dream, boy,’ Brian thought, but complied.  
  
Justin asked him to turn his head to him and put it on folded arms. The blond seemed to like what he saw and set to work.  
  
Brian never saw an artist at work. And, he enjoyed the view. Justin seemed to be totally absorbed, dissolving into his art. His brush was flying over the canvas; he would ruffle his hair from time to time, sweep the tiny drops of sweat, collecting over his upper lip with the tip of his tongue. Brian found it erotic. Too hot to last much longer.  
  
In the short time it took for Brian to spot a hard-on he raised on his elbows and turned to one side. “Justin,” he uttered quietly.  
  
The artist seemed not to hear.  
  
“Justin,” he spoke, louder and more demanding.  
  
“Huh?” The blond slowly came back to reality.  
  
Brian patted the cushion beside him. “Come here.”  
  
Justin put the brushes on the little table, wiped his hands with a stained cloth, and came closer. “What? Are you tired?”  
  
Brian nodded. Tired... yes. Tired to just lie there unable to touch the blond he’d craved to touch for so long.  
  
Justin kneeled next to the brunet.  
  
Brian sat up, his legs on both sides of the smaller body. His thumbs touched the arcs of Justin’s cheekbones, went down to brush the corners of his lips, followed by the swell of his lower lip. Justin closed his eyes, enjoying the breath-stealing sensations. His tongue flicked between his lips to lick one of the fingers. Brian pushed it in a little further, felt his heart in the throat as Justin circled the fingertip, sucking it inside.  
  
Justin slid his hands over Brian’s bare shoulders, skin warm and smooth. Flawless.  
  
Brian leaned into the heat of Justin’s mouth to replace the finger with his tongue. Its tip sank in, behind Justin’s upper lip, followed the line of his teeth, caressed the tender slick flesh inside. He was taken aback by the sound he made somewhere deep in his throat. Brian knew he was welcome, wanted, as the other tongue met him; its tip drawing patterns on the underside of Brian’s tongue.  
  
They pulled away for air. Justin leaned back to watch the man in front of him. He was fascinated by the play of the muscles beneath the tanned skin, the arc of the long neck, the wide chest, the firm stomach, the defined arms. His fingers wouldn’t stop stroking the perfect canvas of Brian’s body.  
  
The brunet asked, his voice ragged, “What do you want, Justin?”  
  
“Want to touch you. Feel you. Every inch.”  
  
Brian didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes in silent agreement.  
  
Justin gave him a whisper of a kiss on the lips, then moved his mouth to his ear, biting the lobe, sucking on it, bringing blood to the surface on the pulse point, licking the line down Brian’s throat. Brian’s body broke in a thin sheen of sweat, the blond tasted the salty moisture hungrily, his fingers sliding on the slick skin.  
  
Brian groaned when the artist’s mouth reached his nipples, the tongue circling them. Justin didn’t give the man a second to breathe. He dragged his tongue along every rib from the middle of the chest to the sides, savoring the musky scent of Brian’s skin.  
  
Brian opened his smoky eyes to meet Justin’s. The blond dipped his tongue into Brian’s belly button, once, twice... unbuttoned his pants, before finally - God, finally sank lower to give a long lick along the hard cock, right along the underside of it. Justin wrapped his lips around the shaft, sucked hard, scraping with his teeth, teasing... provoking. He lifted his head, then went down, tightening his lips around every inch.  
  
That was when Brian lost it. Lost his control, his common sense, his sanity. The only thing he wanted to feel right in this moment was the touch of those fingers, flying over his skin, leaving burning trails and making him shiver at the same time. He was losing himself in the delicious warm wetness on his cock. When he came deep inside that warmth, the only color he could see was black, the only sound he could hear was a white noise.  
  
What happened next Brian could’ve described as incredible, fabulous, and amazing. But he was too much of an ad man to trust in words.  
  
Justin could’ve depicted it…while, he couldn’t. But he had all the colors to paint it.


End file.
